


Bottom of the Deep Blue

by Galaticx



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Humanformers, M/M, Merformers, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-03-19 08:29:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13700733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galaticx/pseuds/Galaticx
Summary: Ironhide, an infamous outcast of both the Autobot and Decepticon kingdoms, becomes separated from his son in a thundering storm where humans net and steal him away. Determined to find Bumblebee, no matter the cost, he travels to the capital of the Autobot Kingdom to meet with Optimus Prime, an old friend whom he once helped when the decepticons still viciously attacked their borders. Ironhide quickly comes to the conclusion that he will do anything and everything to return his son to his arms, and to stop those humans from causing anyone else harm. When the last option appears, he decides, with the utmost difficulty, that releasing an ancient danger back into the seas is the only path left. Burning all the bridges he built, he returns himself to being nothing more than an outcast; feared, disrespected, and alone.More tags and characters to be added, relationships to appear. The first few chapters aren't as well written as later parts since I've grown a bit since beginning this. I'll hopefully get around to rewriting them soon. For best experience, view the entire work rather than going chapter by chapter!Reminder that comments and kudos make the world go round!





	1. Surfacing

Chapter 1:

Surfacing

     Mighty swelling of waves pushed ferociously against the battered skin of the struggling body buried between the foam, forcing the air in his lungs to sharply leave in a harsh hiss. Dual-colored hands reached out for the struggling yellow frame just beyond his grasp, tough cord slicing through the top layers of worn skin. Yelling babbled above him in a tongue he recognized yet cared not to translate. All he cared for was freeing the small yellow merlet from the rope that so obviously tore into his soft skin.

     Two claws caught at the net, desperately attempting to tear through to little avail. It frayed a small bit before it ripped away from his grasp. Purple blood laced the water, combining with the pink from the petite pup. He could see now, there was a small black hand pressing through a hole in the net; clutching at foam and waves feebly as his lungs forced a shrill, broken screech past his lips.

     Heaving pulls yanked the net from the water; stealing the poor child from his home in the water, stealing the poor child away from the scarred arms of the old mer that cared for him. The boat was picking up speed now, kicking water into his face as he was left in its wake. His torn fins and extensive weight slowed him down, keeping the vessel beyond his reach. His sensitive ears heard the broken wail of his son once again as he disappeared over the edge of boat. It lessened quickly into a soft whine before ceasing entirely.

     Roaring ripped from his throat angrily, clawed hands swiping uselessly at empty water. When had boats become so fast? That didn’t matter now, all he knew was that his child was being hurt in some way to stop his crying like that.

     “Bumble! You stop that! Don’t hurt him!”

     Dark clouds rumbled threateningly overhead, as if trying to challenge his call, the waves around him becoming more and more aggressive. The boat rocked before him and his purple claws caught at the very bottom. Rushing of water slapped against the side of his body, his finned head slamming against the hard edges of a rock. His vision spluttered, hands reaching out for the boat desperately as he was slammed against the stone again. Sharp edges tore into the top layers of his underbelly as he skidded past the obstacle finally, yet his sight was fading fast.

     They disappeared around the edge of the island, those monsters that stole his son gone past the small peninsula that lined the edge of the bay. He felt rough sand rub against the numb scars that lined his cape-like fins, fully aware now that the wave had pushed him onto the beach. He struggled to return to the water, but instead simply found his hands digging trenches in the wet grains.

     “Bumble,” his eyelids felt heavy, body suddenly unable to move. “Bumble, I’ll… find you… if it’s the last thing I do…”

     His head spun, vision pulling tightly shut, and then he collapsed against the brown sand beneath him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter to introduce y'all to the story ;3


	2. Seaside

Chapter 3:

Pretty Stranger

     Ironhide was dimly aware of something pulling at the toughness of his skin, pinching and pricking. He rumbled awake, soft lilac eyes opening as he rolled his aching body over and onto his back. Birds squawked around him, a hand swiping at the annoying creatures in order to make them fly away. They did.

     His tail slapped against the sand, hissing as the heat suddenly registered against his dark skin. The white of his underbelly wouldn’t be much better off against the sunlight, but he needed the slight relief of twisting the pain away from his sore muscles. Head turning to one side, he sighed heavily in disappointment at the sight it was low tide. The storm had certainly pushed him pretty far up the beach.

     Clawed hands dug into the sand as he made a futile attempt to pull himself forward. Scrapes on his fingers coursed pain through his arm in response, the sharp grains pulling at barely-healed cuts. His belly wasn’t much better off. Frag. He needed to cover those, but he would be dangerously close to dehydration if he remained in this burning sunlight.

     A soft groan left his lips. He’d much rather deal with sharks than suffer this heat. He was built for the cold depths, not the harsh sunlight. And this was just the beginning of the morning, too.

     Streams of purple made his face violent, the white palms of his hands stained with similar shades as he checked for the wound that was bleeding so profusely. He hissed upon the contact of finding it, flinching away from himself. Primus, those rocks had done a number on him.

     One hand shot out as he dragged himself forward and across the sandy seaside. He whimpered as the grains of heated sand made harsh contact with his underbelly, but he refused to be slowed. Lingering would be the death of him. Especially if those two-legged monsters came across him.

 

 

     A hand slammed down, cutting off the blaring of an alarm just as quickly as it had started. Tanned feet met wooden floor as Reginald Rodriguez stalked out of his room. Soft morning breeze pushed past the open sliding doors of his house, alerting him that his bizarre roommate had woken before he had this morning.

     “Good morning, Ratchet,” oh, speak of the devil. “I prepared you a cup of tea, if you’d care for it.”

     “I told you to stop calling me that.” The wrinkled face of the doctor creased into a frown as he passed through the living room without sparing a glance to the form of his housemate. He did not, however, risk complaining about the tea out of fear it wouldn’t be there the next morning Drift awoke before him.

     “You’ve told me to stop doing a lot of stuff. I think I’ve given up enough for you.”

     “Like those dumb meditation tapes?”

     “I happen to quite enjoy those.”

     Ratchet turned to stare through the archway that separated the kitchen from the living space, eyeing the lightly tanned profile of the other man. Drift, the only name he’d ever known the odd vagrant by, sat legs-crossed on the floor. A white jacket was wrapped around his waist, leaving his upper half bare. 

     The older man sipped idly at his drink before rolling his eyes, turning his gaze to the screen that kept the outside from getting in. Taking several steps through the open space of his minimally decorated house, he placed himself on the couch.

     The lanky man was quite the character; travelling from town to town, city to city, looking for temporary jobs and places to stay as he blew through. Sandy Cape was a common place for him to stop in the summer, the vagabond much too happy to share his skill as a surfer with tourists who visited.

     He’d taken in the younger man a few years back, allowing him to stay in the spare room of his beachside house. Surely that had to be better than sleeping in an overpriced hotel or, worse, the streets. Frighteningly, Ratchet had adapted to the bizarre habits that Drift held very quickly. All the time he was spending with his own strange friends was really starting to take a toll on him.

     It wasn’t that uncommon to find Drift sitting on the floor such as he was now, staring out across the bay at several islands that dotted the coast. Other times he’d simply settle in the middle of the sandy shore and meditate. Today, however, he seemed determinedly focused on something in the distance.

     “What’re you looking at so intently?” He questioned, running a hand through the messy white hair that draped lanky shoulders.

     “There appears to be something on the beach.” Black eyebrows drew close as the younger man stared out across the sandy distance, blue eyes overly curious.

     Ratchet raised a brow in response, turning to look as whatever it was that had captured the drifter’s interest. Strange purple patterns laced the yellow sand, sharp and contrasting. He hummed, his own curiosity piqued.

     “Think the storm last night could have blown a can of paint onto the beach?” Drift questioned, standing to move towards the open door. The doctor followed close behind, mug of tea left on the coffee table.

     Footprints strewn about behind them, they made their way across the wide strip of shore. Kneeling down, the graying redhead’s tired hands met with heated sand, inspecting the strange substance that had appeared on his property. “I don’t think this is paint.” Blue-green eyes flitted up to stare off across the shore, attention captured by the sound of something heavy being dragged nearby.

     “Why’s that?”

     “ _That’s_ why.” Ratchet gestured towards the scarred, beaten form struggling towards the water. The trail of purple followed behind him, and the doctor could see the rivulets of the same shade running down his obsidian skin.

     “Oh my…is that a mer?”

     People flocked to Sandy Cape for many reasons. The views. The lovely townsfolk. The beach. The rumors of mermaids.


	3. Pretty Stranger

Chapter 3:

Pretty Stranger

     “Go grab my first aid kit.”

     “What? Ratch, you can’t be serious. What if it attacks you?”

     “I thought you loved all forms of nature.”

     “I do! But…fine.” He turned towards the house, scaling the stairs and running inside in one swift motion. The older man gently trailed down the beach, aware that the strange aquatic creature had ceased most of its movement. It must have heard them.

     “Hey there, you’re okay.” Tone as soft and kind as he could manage, the human tried to make himself appear small, less threatening. This mer was easily double his size, somewhere over twelve feet of what appeared to be pure muscle and thick layers of protective skin and fat.

     Barbs lined the creature’s back, the first at the beginning of his tail and the last settled above his tailfins. One was settled dangerously between them, it’s pointed end turned in his direction as its tail lashed angrily. He noticed that it had turned to stare at him, its face surprisingly humanoid. Scars covered the right of its face, as if slashed by many enemies over the obviously numerous years it had been alive. Long, claw-like scratches marred its star shaped nose, nostrils flaring from stress, or maybe habit.

     Its face showed noticeable signs of age, or stress at least, soft wrinkles creasing the black lines that marked porcelain white cheeks. One soft lilac-blue eye was appeared to be in a permanent state of being half-closed, likely due to the extensive scarring that surrounded it. The other stared wide at him with a more obvious mixture of omniscience and, yet, fear. There was an immense amount of wisdom in those eyes, like the creature knew the power that the people of the land held. Their abilities of great science, and of great violence.

     Torn stingray-esque wings connected its arms to broad, curved sides. Bites appeared to have been taken out of the flesh, leaving Ratchet to wonder what kind of creature could haven gotten such a lucky hit on something this powerful. Sharp, purple claws dug lines in the sand and left trails of blood in their wake. This was like seeing a deity, he swore.

     Drift was returning behind him, steps calculated to prevent the giant from lashing out. He offered the kit to his friend, hanging back as the graying man pressed forward.

     “You understand me, don’t you?” Stern eyes bore into his own, almost angrily. “I just want to help you. You’re hurt.”

     He was within striking distance, he noted. If the mer decided at this moment to thrust a barb in his direction, that would be it. A well-placed stab could end him. And he wasn’t even sure if they were laced with any sort of venom.

     “Drift, see if you can find something to bring water up here.” A hand settled inquisitively on the mer’s shoulder, noting quickly that it tensed under his touch. “You’re fine.”

     A gash was on its forehead, dripping purple blood into the scarred eye below. The doctor decided that would be the best place to begin rather than aiming for some place bound to be more sensitive like its underbelly.

     Growling, the mer dug purple claws into the staining sand. “Hurt me,” his words were obviously uncertain and heavily accented, yet dangerous all the same, “and I’ll tear your throat out.”

     As if to back up the statement, a claw sliced through the loose pajama bottoms the human was dressed in.

     “Don’t worry. I have no intention of hurting you.” He had honestly been taken aback that this mer was, in fact, a male. The voice gave it away more than his looks. Every tale he’d ever heard had been about beautiful fish-women. Ratchet supposed the needed a way to reproduce somehow. “This may sting.”

     He began to apply antibiotic salves to the mers wound, fully aware that the obsidian colored creature was continuing to growl. Drift rushed by with a bucket, pulling water from the distant ocean and running back up the best he could without spilling it.

     “Do you have a name?” The drifter asked, almost jumping as the mer took the bucket from him and dumped it over his overheating tail.

     “Translates to Ironhide, I guess.” He scowled at the gauze being pressed against his forehead, the expression growing sourer at the bandages. “Why help?”

     “You really think we’d leave you to crawl your way to the ocean? You’d simply attract danger with all that blood.” Accepting the bucket back, Drift skittered back down to the sea.

     Ratchet switched his attention to the mer’s worn hands. “Why did you let us help?”

     “Better chances.”

     Water dumped gently down his back, causing the giant to rumble pleasantly. “More importantly, how’d you end up like this?”

     Ironhide fell quiet, his eyes closing. His nose flared, the rush of a heavy sigh following. “I… landers, or whatever you call yourselves… they kidnapped my son. Caught him in a net and left in a hurry. The storm stopped me before I could reach.”

     “I’m so sorry.” A hand trailed down the ridge of his back in a supportive gesture as Drift muttered.

     “Don’t. I don’t need you to feel sorry for me.” His eyes opened enough to be narrowed into a threatening glare. The sparkle of wisdom remained, strangely placed among the glint of rage of a parent who’d been robbed of their child. “I need to find him. Before they do something terrible to him.”

     One hand now wrapped, the mer began to pull himself away. Both humans made the futile attempts to hold him back. Drift’s hands clutched uselessly at the slippery skin of his tail, fingers gliding along the ridge that lined his spine.

     “You can’t go like this. It’s too dangerous. There are sharks in these waters.”

     Ironhide shoved the protesting human away. He bore his sharp teeth in response, multiple sets of canines revealing themselves. “Think I’m scared of a little shark? I’m getting my son back. No one will stop me.”

     It was obvious the vagrant wanted to further argue. His mouth hung open as he began to voice his opinions, but Ratchet simply shoved in front of his face in an attempt to let him know this wasn’t his place.

     “We’ll try to keep an eye out for you. What will you do, however? To find him?”

     “Anything. I’ll do anything to find my Bumble.”

      Even if that meant returning to The Ark and begging for help from the other autobots.


	4. Something in the Water

Chapter 4:

Something in the Water

     It irritated him to no end that the humans had convinced him to stay long enough for the healer to finish wrapping his wounds. The longer he took, the further those humans could be taking Bumble away, or the more they could be doing to the poor child. He had no chance of finding a boat so small in a sea so vast, he needed the help of other mers to find his son. It was bad enough that he had to travel three days to reach The Ark, the city of Optimus Prime. Perhaps he would come along a phyle before he reached the city and could talk them into searching while he travelled.

     Nomads like himself were welcome into The Ark, but generally much less so among the travelling tribes. They were most likely to ignore him on average; at best welcoming him to speak, at worse chasing him away. The autobots were certainly friendlier than the decepticons had been when he still lived among their empire all those years ago, but the phyle were known to be much less than warm to outsiders.

     Especially when those outsiders were from the decepticon empire such as Ironhide was.

     The wraps that the human healer had secured around his torso were beginning to itch and irritate at his scars as he swam. He knew he’d have to ditch the material soon, before other mers saw him wearing something that belonged over the water, not under it.

     He pushed himself forward with a mighty kick of his tail, winged arms tucked tight against his sides to allow him to travel further. The smell of other mers suddenly assaulted his olfactory senses, tearing him from his thoughts. Convenient.

     Dark hands began to pull away the bandages, rubbing at the forming scabs in an irritated manner. He felt strangely bare when he’d finally removed them all, yet decided to not linger long on those thoughts. Arms pulling back, he slowed himself enough to seem less threatening when he approached the travelling phyle ahead. He could make out the large blue shape of a familiar mer, a pale green form by his left side and a purple-and-yellow one by his right. Several multicolored mers swam beneath them, going about their lives. Ironhide could make out a few grooming one another as they travelled along, others sharpening spears or showing off pretty shells they’d collected.

     Quickly deciding that approaching from below would be the best option, he gently made his descent. Two or three of the tribe members looked down, let on by the shadow the moon cast below them. He swam beneath, earning several curious glances, and turned so that his underbelly was exposed. A sign of submission. He came not to fight.

     One of the green mers nodded in response, clearly unbothered by a friendly presence. This appeared to be enough to please the others as well. If Springer accepted the outsider, they wouldn’t worry much. It didn’t cease their muttering however.

     Several more members turned to find the source of the commotion, a few glaring while others offered small gestures of greeting. He returned the motion, not wanting to come off as rude in a time of need.

     The purple mer up in front had obviously caught on to what was happening, his golden eyes suddenly fixated on the nomadic outsider. He left the larger male’s side, sinking down to glide mere feet above Ironhide’s own frame. His body was dwarfed by the multicolored tribe member, his head just barely reaching his midsection even when their tailfins were in alignment.

     “Impactor,” the older male greeted, one hand extended out. “It’s good to see you again. It’s been years, hasn’t it?”

     “I think so. I thought you lived in deep waters, strange to see you all the way up here.” A purple forearm overlaid Ironhide’s own obsidian one, hand pulled into a fist in welcoming. “Time treated you worse than me, huh?”

     “I was never much to look at anyways. Not much of a loss.” He huffed indignantly, twisting his body so that he was side-by-side with the larger mer. “Look, Impactor, I’m gonna cut straight to it.”

     “I’m listening.” An overly wide grin settled into place on a porcelain-white face.

     “Stop that.” Impactor did, in fact, not stop. “I… I need a favor.”

     “Oooh! Big, bad, Ironhide! Scourge of the Sea, Decepticon Defector! You need help?”

     “Those two-legged monsters took my son.”

     Everyone who was listening gasped. It would have been comical if Ironhide had been looking for a laugh. It was well known among the merfolk that you don’t mess with children, no matter who the parents are. That’s just asking for death. Messing with a decepticon’s child was even worse. Even if Ironhide had defected from the empire, he was still a decepticon in the most basic of his instincts.

     Whoever took his pup was lucky they were still in one piece, much less still alive.

     “I didn’t know you had mated with someone.”

     “I didn’t. No time for courting when you’re too busy being an outcast, right? He was abandoned, so I took him in. Wasn’t gonna leave a pup to die.”

     The paling mer above them glanced down, face creased into a solemn frown. “Who would abandon a pup in these times? We’re still recovering from the war.”

     “Someone who didn’t wanna deal with a near-mute pup, I guess.” Bumble couldn’t manage much aside from whining and whimpering, and even those were hard on his voice.

     “Primus almighty, poor thing doesn’t deserve that.” Kup shook his head.

     “So you want us to find him? How could we do that if the landers stole him?” Inferno, a fiery red mer questioned.

     “They had a boat, one of those vessels, obviously. There was a symbol on it, I remember what it looked like. I can draw it for you.”

     The phyle muttered between themselves. Ironhide knew he wasn’t exactly the most popular among this particular group, they’d likely heard rumors of the things he’d done before he defected, but they seemed to actually be considering helping him. If there was one thing that could bring merfolk together, it was children. Entire groups would raise whatever merlets were with them, it was instinct, and it was crazy the extent they’d reach for just one child.

     “We’ll rest here then. Show us your symbol, and we’ll split once everyone has regained their strength. Whoever still has energy to spare will go hunting.” Ultra Magnus’s voice boomed ahead. The phyle startled, surprised by their leader’s sudden announcement. “Who knows what those monsters will do to him. We have to save Ironhide’s son.”


	5. Tell Me When It's Over

Chapter 5:

Tell Me When It’s Over

     Waves shimmered above, rippling and distorting the silver disc of the moon’s reflection to cast bright light across the resting mers below. They had settled their forms against the seafloor, several of the smaller members curled up in the center of a large circle-like shape. Ultra Magnus twisted his form to encase the rock below him with his tail, arms buried under his head as he watched over his tribemates. Below him, Impactor settled with a small armful of pups. They squeaked up at the purple-and-yellow mer, round faces cast in the glowing light of his golden eyes.

     The Wreckers, as his phyle had come to be known as, had settled down with relatively few complaints. Several younglings had been determined to keep moving, however, energetic and boisterous, leading to them being herded by older members into a small group in an attempt to quarrel their liveliness. Aside from that, everyone seemed within a good proximity of one another. Mers curled around each other, tails overlapping and fingers intertwining.

     Everyone but one, it seemed. Ironhide had placed himself quite a distance away, buried among a small forest of seaweed. He periodically pushed away leaves that had placed themselves over his face as he stared out into the distance. Magnus couldn’t help but wonder if he’s heard something. His hearing, after all, seemed to be much more sensitive than the average mer.

     Green shimmered in the corner of his vision, the graying shape of Kup crossing the distance that kept the decepticon defector away from the others. A webbed hand reached out in offering to the dark mer, catching Ironhide’s interest. Magnus only noticed what it was when the older adult deposited it into the other’s waiting palm. It was a small slice of fish, not anything fancy, but it was better than the nothing that had been offered before. The Wreckers, despite accepting the nomad’s arrival, had not been willing to share their hunts with him.

    Ironhide hadn’t seemed too surprised, however. And, when asked why he didn’t catch his own, had brushed it off with a simple remark that left Ultra Magnus’s interest piqued.

     “No point in overhunting.”

     The fact that he’d thought about it intrigued the blue leader. Even more so that this was from someone who had lived half his life in the _decepticon empire_. They weren’t known for being the most thoughtful of mers, unabashedly hunting entire areas dry.

     He saw Kup’s mouth move before he settled down in the seaweed by the dark male’s side, rolling onto his back contently. Ironhide stared at him for a few moments, turning away with a slow blink as he rested his head against a hand.

     “Pretty nice group you’ve got here.” The stoic voice of the defector rumbled. “Well, not nice to _me_ , but nice nonetheless.”

     Seaweed trembled as the green mer rolled over, capturing the base of it beneath his weight. “Most of ‘em have heard stories ‘bout you. Don’t take it too personally.”

     “Stories, huh? What kind?”

     “The kind where you supposedly used to be one of the most dangerous decepticons in Megatron’s empire. I’ve even heard talk of you being the reason that fragger disappeared. Some whisper that you murdered him, and no one ever found the body.”

     “Primus… sure I’ve beaten him in a few fights, but… kill him?”

     “Just what a few are sayin’. I never thought it was true.”

     Well, they weren’t afraid to talk loud about this. Magnus watched several Wrecker’s lift their heads in interest, eyes wide.

     Ironhide lifted his gaze, meeting the startled ones in front of him, before twisting away. “You all know he can’t be dead, right? A mer that of that size and prowess can’t die without someone knowing.”

     “And how would you know?” Someone voiced the concerns of many, Inferno by the sound of it.

     Lilac eyes flitted in the darkness of night, reflective surfaces glimmering. “I don’t know. I simply cannot believe that Megatron has died without someone claiming the kill as their own.”

     The Wreckers began to chatter over themselves; some agreeing with Ironhide’s statement while others muttered accusations instead.

     “Wreckers, desist.” Magnus’s baritone voice cut through, prompting startled jumps and chirps. “This is a touchy subject; one we needn’t stress ourselves over. We need to focus on the task at hand: recuperating so that we may assist Ironhide in finding his son.”

     “Ultra Magnus, Major, why should we even bother? Surely those landers have killed the pup by now.” Sandstorm all but hissed. “Why help a defector? He betrayed the decepticons, who’s to say he won’t betray us?”

     “Your concern is heard, however, Ironhide has done nothing to warrant such a suspicion. The Primes trust, our own Optimus Prime even welcoming him into the war chambers when the battles still waged heavily on our borders.

     “And, on the other subject, even if the land people have proven themselves to be the monsters we fear, we need to do what we can to help that pup. If they have done the unspeakable, if they have killed that poor pup, we have to teach them a lesson they will soon not forget. You do not mess with the autobots, especially those still innocent.”

     For once, no one dared to argue. Several laid their heads back down against the sand below, returning to their interrupted rest. Sandstorm looked prepared to argue further before Springer pulled the mer down, placing his head against his chest with a forceful rumble.

     “Respect our Major. And Ironhide for that matter. Optimus Prime gave him the title of Minor after all. He outranks you.”

     The multicolored male growled in response before closing his eyes, the pale glow disappearing from view as he did.

     Seaweed wavering around him, obscuring large portions of his dark frame from view, Ironhide sighed. Kup shifted closer, settling a webbed hand settling against an ebony pelvic fin in a supportive gesture.

 

 

      Wailing pierced the silence of the dark night, broken and shattered. Crest fins tilted, rerouting the sound to better calculate just where it was originating from. A dark hand settled against the craggy surface of a towering ridge of coral, purple claws catching before a mighty shove pushed the aging mer away. With a powerful twist of the tail, he surged forward to track the strange cries.

     They grew louder. Shriller. Closer. He dived down, pushing his arms open to allow the water to catch in cape-like fins and slow his speed. Below him, the sound persisted. Giant corals lined the seafloor in bizarre, natural shapes, yet the noise wasn’t coming from there. Lilac eyes honed in on a wriggling form, gray against the sand.

     Ironhide’s heart sunk, a hollow pit settling in his stomach. He had hoped he would be wrong over the source, but it seemed he wasn’t lucky enough for that to be the case. Ducking closer to the seafloor, he gently reached his hands out for the wailing form.

     “Sh, sh, you’re fine.” The old mer chirped, gently lifting the crying pup into his arms. His form was frail and gray, eyes still closed. Black lines were beginning to appear on his small form, decorating his arms and sides. “You’re safe now, little one.”

     Hiccups shook the merlet’s frame before small hands stretched out to examine the larger male. They quickly came into contact with one of Ironhide’s own hands, small fingers wrapping around a dual-colored one as broken peeps left the pup. “Yes, hello…”

     He lifted his head up, scenting the water curiously for signs of any other mers. Who would leave a newborn pup alone, especially in an uncovered area? Clutching the child close to his chest, he turned towards the seaweed forest he’d seen on the way. Tiny fingers gripped at the smooth skin of his chest, curious.

     “You’re a needy little thing, huh? It’s fine though. I was alone for a while too, I get it.”

     Finned ears swiveled, a sudden sound catching his attention. Head tilting, the old mer turned his gaze back over his shoulder in time to see two multicolored forms steadily approaching. He recognized their shapes quickly, registering them as the approaching forms of Thundercracker and Skywarp.

     “This is autobot territory. Leave.”

     “Then why are you here? Oh, right. You defected. Like a coward.” Sharp teeth flashed in his direction, the predatory mers pushing closer. “And to think you once sat by Megatron’s side as a trusted ally. Aren’t you doing the same for that Prime now? Going to defect from him too?”

      “You know fair well why I left the decepticons. The only coward is that trine leader of yours. Where is Starscream, anyways? Too afraid to come?”

     “Your old age must be getting to you, Ironhide.” Rumbled Thundecracker, vicious. “Or perhaps living among the autobots has dulled your senses.”

     “What- fragger!”

     The dark mer spun, clutching the pup close as he lashed his tail outwards at the approaching form. Dark red claws dug into his tail, shoving it away just for the venom-laced barb to glide across an ebony cheek. Sharp teeth latched into the right fin between his arm and side, seeping purple into the water.

     Ironhide roared, yanking his tail away from the bony hand that failed to maintain a proper grasp. He swung it backwards, catching Skywarp in the side of the head with the bottom of his flukes as he teleported closer. Damn outliers.

     The pup in his arms wailed, distressed by the tension and the scent of blood. A hand pulled away from securing his small form, slamming down on Starscream’s head to force him away. “Did you leave the pup here? To lure me in?”

     “By Unicron’s beard, you think we’re that monstrous?” Thundercracker’s blue form crashed into his side, sharp, sandpaper skin scraping against his own smoother flesh. “Autobots left him there. They didn’t wanna deal with a child who can’t even cry properly.”

     Ironhide had noticed that the merlet couldn’t form the correct sounds; every chirp, click, and peep broken into multitudinous segments. It destroyed the meaning behind them and made him sound like a wounded mer, an easy target for predators. Rough hands skidded across his tail as he slammed it back against the purple decepticon’s midsection, the barb placed between his tailfins puncturing black scales.

     Venom coursing through his veins now, the predatory mer backed away; tail lashing in pain. Starscream screeched in rage at his trinemate’s assault, red claws piercing through the still-bleeding fin against Ironhide’s side.

     “Skywarp! Retreat!” Sharp crimson sliced through weeping flesh, blood staining his hands purple, before he quickly joined his trinemate’s side, leading him back towards the border. Thundercracker watched them disappear before he released the grip he’d managed on the older mer’s tail.

     He hissed, roughly colliding his forehead with Ironhide’s in a final retaliation. The impact jostled his frame, the poor pup crying out in response. Dark hands pulled him closer, ignoring the growing ache. Blue tail lashing, the decepticon quickly disappeared after his trine.

     Ebony form dropping to the seafloor below, the old mer came to rest the bridge of his nose against the side of the child’s head in an attempt to cease his crying. “It’s okay, they’ve left. It’s okay.”

     The burning hurt in his fin was immense, yet he was decidedly focused on this pup. Pain from understanding the feeling of abandonment and worry was much more prevalent on his mind, biting more heavily at him than any shark-like jaws ever could.

     A small gray cheek rubbed against his own, broken chirps of curiosity breaking his thoughts as a hand battered against his chest or touched against his shoulder.

     “I won’t leave your side, little one. I promise.”

 

 

     He awoke to a pale green hand pushing against his shoulder, inquisitively shoving him a few times. Lilac eyes flitted open, the old mer coming to with a soft rumble and a swat at the webbed hand that continued to softly roll him in place.

     “It’s mornin’ now, buddy. Plus, you were whining in your sleep a bit there.” Kup’s well aged face hung into the top half of his vision, soft blue eyes curious and a brow arched. “Bad dream?”

     “Something to that effect.”

     He rolled over, tail stretching and back arching. Teeth baring in a wide yawn, he lifted away from the seafloor, The Wreckers were mostly awake, the fortimi already preparing for the journey ahead. They sharpened their weapons, pressing whetstones against hydrothermal-forged metal to sharpen the material, and crafted small bolts to fit their bows.

     Springer ceased his perfectionist level sharpening as the outsider approached. A wave of his spiny tail greeted him, gesturing with his head to come join him. Ironhide settled on a stone nearby, curious. His gaze focused on the spear wrapped in green fingers, yearning for the familiar comfort of a spear’s handle in his own hands.

     “Where is your weapon? I’ve never heard a story of you without that spear by your side.” Bright blue met lilac as the fortimis stared back at the outsider. As a powerful fighter, he understood what a strong weapon could mean to a travelling mer. “Lose it in the chase after your son?”

     “No, actually. It was destroyed months ago in a fight.”

     “You’ve been weaponless for months?”

     “Never had to chance to make a new one.”

     The green mer looked astounded. A mer renowned as a weapon specialist, given the title of Minor by a Prime, weaponless? “You’re serious?” He didn’t wait for an answer, grasping a matching spear that rested by his side. He offered it over, determined when Ironhide watched with a surprised expression.

     “Wait, really?” A dark hand wrapped around the handle, pulling the spear into his grasp to examine it. Immaculate sharpening, and well crafted. He’d heard that The Wreckers had become skilled forgers of weaponry, using natural hydrothermal pockets to heat metals until malleable when they could then shape it. “You’re giving this to me?”

     “You’ll need it. Path to The Ark gets pretty crazy sometimes, and scouts have reported decepticons sneaking past our borders. Plus, if the land people have hurt your son, you’re gonna need it to kick some ass.”

     Ironhide laughed, although the sound was mirthless. Maybe even on the edge of being forced. “I owe you, Springer. A true fortimis, putting others ahead of yourself.”

     “Just rip the landers a new one if they hurt that pup. Let ‘em know no one messes with the autobots.” Kup huffed indignantly behind them.

     “Bumble is an autobot, huh?” The ebony mer asked, turning to glance back at the graying male.

     “Course he is. He’s your son, and, after all, you’re one of us.”

     The inexplicable rush overtook him, heart skipping beats in his chest at the sudden revelation. He’d known Kup thought highly of him, but never this much. Around them, several other mers voiced their agreements.

     “You became one of us when you saved Prime all those years ago. Some are too dense to see that, but we’re certainly not.”

     It was bizarre, this new feeling of acceptance. He quite hoped it remained, heart thudding loudly from the rush of untapped emotions. Joy crashing into him like the foamy waves that pushed him ashore mere a mere day ago, Ironhide grinned.

     “Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes really quick for the curious:  
> Primes- Highest level of autobot command, 13 Primes currently, each has control of their own city-state  
> Majors- Majors are given their titles by the Primes and they are often among their closest advisers; phyle will sometimes refer to their leaders as Majors despite them not officially holding the title, Magnus is an official Major however  
> Minors- Function similarly to Major's but are a level below them in the chain of command  
> Phyle- Nomadic tribe of autobots  
> Fortimis (plural: fortimi)- Highly skilled and honorable fighters among phyle


	6. Not Into You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some sex jokes in the second part of this chapter, sorry. The first three parts were written forever ago, but I just finished up this chapter!

Chapter 6:

Not into You

Sunlight broke over the horizon, catching in the windows of the hospital as Ratchet left his shift. He ran ragged hands through short, tasseled curls, sighing heavily at the taxation of the stress that had been placed upon his shoulders. Summer brought with it’s hot days and sunlight, careless tourists. How dumb could you be to dive off a cliffside called Devil’s Mouth, anyways?

Drift was waiting next to the doors, surfboard clutched in his hands as per usual. His tanned face lit up in a smile up seeing the doctor, though it quickly faltered into a nervous grin.

“Alright, what’s bothering you.” Ratchet knew that expression all too well.

Falling into a pace that matched his own, the younger man lowered his head to speak in a hushed tone. “I heard some men talking down by the docks earlier. Said something about a set of merfolk that had been delivered to the city across the bay.”

“…you think it’s Ironhide’s son, don’t you?”

“Yeah. Mentioned one was yellow, and small, like he’d said. Evidently the story there is that the kid was abandoned, likely due to the fact he can’t properly vocalize.”

“So, they’re not admitting he’s kidnapped.”

“Precisely.”

Ratchet’s skin crawled at the very idea. Some poor child stolen from his parent, and for what? To make your establishment look nice? To make money? Stopping at a crosswalk, the doctor turned to focus his eyes on his friend’s face.

“And the other one? Did they mention?”

Drift rolled his head on his shoulders, thinking. “All I caught was that he was massive. They had to build an entirely new wing on the building for him.”

The green man flashed onto the light across the road, inviting them across. “Well, I’m off tomorrow. How about we take a little road trip?”

 

 

Golden spires flooded the distance, towering higher than any mer was tall. Their pointed shapes seemed to pierce the sea, poised and waiting. They were as intimidating as they were beautiful. It was astounding that a small kingdom of mer had built that generations before the second golden age had brought them plentiful material.

Impactor yanked on an ebony fluke, prompting lilac eyes to meet his own yellow; a frown creasing the aged face looking back at him. “I know. I shouldn’t do that.” The Wrecker smiled in return, twisting his multicolored form around Ironhide’s own.

Scoffing, the older mer shoved at him. “Then stop doing it every time we meet. You’re going to end up being cut by the barbs. Or worse.”

“You always say that, but I don’t believe you. You’re not completely bad, Ironhide.”

“Yeah? And you’re not completely ugly, Impactor.”

Obnoxious laughter pulled much of the phyle’s attention towards them, the older mer lowering his blushing face into his hands. He was much too aware of how this must look, the larger male wrapped around him in a way that mimicked that of an intimate couple.

Yellow fingers grasped at his darker ones, intertwining the best they could with webbed membrane obstructing their paths. “You didn’t seem to think I was so ugly a few mating seasons ago.” Impactor rumbled, teasing.

“That doesn’t count. I was desperate. _Whirl_ looked good to me then. Wipe that stupid grin off your face.” Hide tore a hand away to push it against the larger male’s face, attempting to free himself with a shove. “I need to get going.”

“I’ll come with you.” The crest on the Wrecker’s forehead pressed into his cheek, eliciting a sharp growl.

“Now isn’t the time to be chasing valves, dumb brute.” Ironhide pushed with more force, following it with a small headbutt to Impactor’s chin. He relented, freeing the ebony form from his grasp. “You should stay with your group.”

“I’m not coming along because I want to-”

“Don’t even say it.”

“It wouldn’t matter if I did wanna try to get it on.” The smaller mer groaned in frustration at Impactor’s straightforwardness. “There wouldn’t be much success, anyways. You’ve still got a small kid already. I’m going with you to keep you safe.”

Lilac eyes rolled, less than amused. “I can protect myself.”

“Springer didn’t reach into the extent of it when he said there were decepticon spottings. We ran into eight just this season. We’re not gonna rescue this kid just for you to be dead.”

Several more members were looking in their direction now, clearly interested by the unraveling scene. Or perhaps it was the fact Impactor was displaying his courting colors that caught their captivation.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Ironhide waved a dismissive hand. “If I let you come along, you’ll stop that, correct?”

“Stop what?”

Someone growled teasingly, prompting a chorus of laughter from the surrounding mers. Yellow eyes darted down only to spot the bright shades of gold and nightshade that had appeared along his tail. White cheeks turned pink. “Frag.”

“Back in my day, we offered gifts before trying to slide into phase three.” Kup rumbled around a piece of coral clutched in his teeth. He had slid a hand over Springer’s eyes at some point, the younger mer flicking his tail in annoyance.

“What’s that suppo- oh no.”

“Oh, yes, Impactor. Your little soldier is visiting.” Grinned Inferno.

Cursing, the Wrecker retreated into the nearby seaweed. Laughter reprised as the phyle collectively took amusement in the mer’s unfortunate situation. Only Magnus didn’t join, his stoic exterior ruined by a stunned expression. Only once the waves of delight had receded into soft chuckles and chortles did he add a whispered, “That was certainly more Impactor than I ever wished to see.” The mirth quickly returned.

“You all are incorrigible.” Muttered Ironhide. “I understand it’s almost mating season but have some self-control.”

 

 

Those golden spires were close enough now to cast magnificent shadows upon the swimming forms of Ironhide and Impactor. The larger of the two mers swam below his companion, periodically looking up to steal glances as his darker body, yellow eyes dim the whole while as if that would make it less noticeable. Lilac met with yellow at one point, prompting the younger male to act as if he was looking towards the spires instead.

Scoffing, Ironhide dropped down to be side-by-side with the multicolored mer. “Have you been to The Ark before?” He questioned, eyes focused steadily forward.

“No. I’ve only ever seen it from a distance. It’s beautiful.” Impactor grinned. “I can only think of one thing that rivals it.”

“Ugh. That? That is exactly why I can barely stand you. You don’t know when to give up. You’ve been following since I left your group. Why are you still following?” He eyed the younger mer with a soft grimace on his lips.

“My creators always told me to follow my dreams.” His grin grew impossibly wider, prompting a heavy roll of the other mer’s eyes. “Plus, I meant what I said about the ‘cons. I don’t doubt your skills as a warrior, but backup is always nice to have.”

Huffing, Ironhide decided to instead focus on the towering structures that grew closer and closer. They twisted, hundreds of feet tall, and decorated with multicolored corals that weaved from spire to spire, clinging even to the arches that connected most buildings together. Shells and pearls dangled in strings from protruding parts of the spires, glimmering in the lighting of various glowing sea plants. The autobots didn’t live in as deep water as the decepticons did, but it was moderately dim here. Distantly, Ironhide was thankful of that. Humans couldn’t see the city from above water then.

Mers of all colors, shapes, and sizes milled about the entrance to the city, living their happy lives. Iaconians were perfectly happy residing in the giant cities they built, snuggled contently in the middle of a giant reef that encapsulated their home. Their distinct fin shapes marked the city mer easily; long and sleek, overly fancy, more frill than fin, and most of them decorated. He spotted a familiar form leaning against a small counter, chatting humorlessly to a similarly outfitted mer. The black-and-white autobot motioned widely to the crowd moving about, the blue-and-white mer by his side nodding in agreement.

“Don’t do anything weird, we’re passing the eastern enforcer station.” Ironhide warned to his companion. “Keep your weapon in its holster.”

“We’re passing the what now?”

“Ugh. Enforcer station. See those two with the matching armour? That’s Chase and Prowl. They protect the city, and enforce the laws of it.”

“Oh, I get it now. Okay, okay, I’ll act like a city-goer, blend in all stealthy like. Mer in disguise.”

Several mers turned to look at them as they passed by, eyes comically wide at the sight of a travelling fortimis and a decepticon defector. Impactor nodded at them in an awkward greeting, baffled when most of them fanned their fins in response.

“Are they angry?” He asked, leaning close to Ironhide’s ear to keep himself from speaking too loudly. “I didn’t do anything, did I?”

“No, that’s their greeting.” Lilac eyes rolled again, although it was more amused than anything else. “Each city-state has their own way of saying hello, as do most phyle. Just go along with it.”

Nearby, someone exclaimed as startled: “It’s you!” They turned to look towards the voice, spotting the white-and-black enforcer approaching them. “Ironhide! Prime has been hoping you’d return. You haven’t showed for several winters. We feared something had happened to you.”

Grumbling, the older mer turned around, fully expecting to see Prowl approaching the two of them, scowling as he usually did when he had to interact with the ex-decepticon. What he didn’t expect was to see Jazz by the other’s side, his silver form glimmering in the lights of The Ark. He looked the same as the last time he’d seen him, youthful and grinning. City life treated him well. It made Ironhide feeling suddenly weary. Perhaps he really should take Prime up on the offer to live in the city…

But he knew he’d miss his nomadic lifestyle too much.

“Come on, you all couldn’t get that lucky. I have to keep living, just to spite everyone.”

Jazz gave a light, yet playful, frown at that, unamused by his friend’s idea of a joke. “None of that, Hide.” He crossed his arms before flashing a smile. “Who’s your friend?”

Before the multicolored warrior could answer for himself, Ironhide cut in. “His name is Impactor, and he’s not my friend. But that isn’t important right now. I need help.”

Offering a sideways glance of apology to the fortimis, the silver mech replied. “You? Need help? Never thought I’d see the day. Come, come, you can fill me in on the details on the way to Optimus’s war chambers. He’s in a meeting currently, but I’m sure he’d let you interrupt. Impactor will have to wait outside though.”

“What? Why?” Indignant, Impactor’s lips tugged downwards.

“The other Primes will be annoyed enough with just one unwelcomed guest. It would be for the best. You can wait outside the doors with Prowl, but I’m afraid I cannot allow you to enter.”

Purple arms crossed as the pair swam ahead, towards the biggest of the spires. By his side, the black-and-white mer shifted unhappily, fins writhing. “Great. I’ve been promoted to fortimis-sitter.”

 

 

Following closely behind the silver tail of Jazz, Ironhide tried to ignore the suffocating feeling the walls of buildings always seemed to invoke. He acted as if he wasn’t bothered by the close structures, the small halls, the strange, constricting feeling in his stomach. The glaring gold of the walls was somehow all the worse combined with such emotions, and, as they grew closer and closer to the giant red doors ahead, the bizarre emotions in the pit of his being grew larger and larger.

Primus, he really hated being here. The memories of a war that had long since happened remained fresh in his mind, pulling at his emotions in inexplicable ways that made him want to claw at his own head. He could remember the pain, the suffering, the raw emotion that emitted from the room ahead. He could recall the yelling of voices, claws on hard surfaces, harsh lashings of tails. He’d spent so much time in that room, by Prime’s side, planning and hoping, that it may as well been his home. Constantly worried, and grieving over the mers they had sent to their deaths. All because of that _tyrant_.

Gently, the rough, worn palm of Impactor’s hand placed itself on his side, pulling him away from the horrors of his memory. He was suddenly very aware of the fact that every muscle in his being was tensed, and that his tail was flicking in a way that had managed to scrape away pieces of the walls with the barbs. The fortimis said no words, only staring at the smaller mer with soft, concerned eyes that made him want to punch him right across that stupid face and hug him at the same time.

Ironhide shook his head dismissively as Jazz pulled open the giant red doors, revealing the gathered party of two Primes and several Majors and Minors. Optimus didn’t look up from the map beneath his splayed hands until he heard the disbelieving mutters of the wanderer’s name. His blue eyes drifted upwards, meeting lilac as his lips stretched into a graceful smile.

“My friend,” that distinctive voice spoke, “you’ve appeared! I haven’t seen you since the end of the war. I hope you’ve been well.”

Whatever the black mer was going to say in response was cut off entirely by the hulking purple and gold male by Optimus’s side. “Stop being so friendly to him, Optimus.” Ironhide recognized this mer immediately as the Prime of the city-state to the northeast, Zeta. “He’s nothing but a defector who has lied and manipulated his way into your chambers.”

“Nice to see you too, Zeta. I see you still can’t stand me. Its fine, however, as I can’t stand you much either. But now is not the time for petty likes and dislikes, I need help.”

“Speak, my friend.” The giant blue, red, and white male was quietly approaching, arms behind his back in such a way that it added impossibly more elegance to his form. “As much as Zeta may disagree, I will always put time aside for you. It’s the least I can do after everything you’ve done for us.”

“As selfish as it is, I need help to find my son.” He ignored the various, scandalized whispers from the surrounding mers; mostly commentary about how they couldn’t believe someone would mate with an ex-decepticon. Feeling the need to explain himself, Ironhide couldn’t stop the rushed words that fell from his lips. “I found him, alone, when he was still gray, eyes barely open. As much as your kingdoms like to believe I am a monster, I would never leave a pup to die. I’ve raised him for seven years, doing everything I could to protect him. During a bad storm days ago, humans ambushed us. They took him from me. I need to find him.”

“They’re kidnapping pups now?” A Major scowled, dimly Ironhide registered him as Heatwave. Shaking his head, the red mer continued to speak. “They’ve been capturing mers for weeks. Seventeen gathers, soldiers, and rescuers have gone missing thanks to them.”

“This draws the line.” A Minor said, visibly upset. She crossed her arms, trying to hide the expression on her face. He didn’t recognize her. She must be new. “Taking pups from their creators! Do they have no shame?”

“At ease, Nautica. Your anger is reasonable but acting out here will fix nothing.” Elita spoke as she leaned forward to catch a closer look at the intruding mer. “I’d gotten reports of a battle-scarred decepticon in my waters a season ago, accompanied by a small pup. I take it that was you then?”

“It was, ma’am. I apologize for crossing the border without permission, but the warmer waters-”

“Cease. I don’t want excuses, I was merely curious.” Her slender fingers caught hold of Optimus’s dorsal fin, a silent order for him to turn. “I feel that helping your friend here would yield the answers that we all seek. I would implore you to assist him in this search.”

“You cannot be serious, Elita!” A hulking red and gold male exclaimed, all but slamming his hands upon the table. “Finding our missing soldiers is more important than a decepticon’s pup!”

“Ex-decepticon, Sentry. And don’t forget that more than soldiers have gone missing as well. Just this week, we’ve lost three gatherers to these monsters. And not let us forget the poor sire they killed.” Elita scowled. “There is more to our people than soldiers.”

“Yes, but the resources should go to finding more important members of our society! Is one child really worth the potential lives of many?” By Sentry’s side, a blue, orange, and white Major with an unfortunately large chin pointed an accusing finger.

“If you refuse to spare the resources, Sentinel, then I’ll go to assist Ironhide.” The entire room turned to look at Optimus with dumbfounded gazes. “My comrade here almost gave his life for me during the war, and he saved countless other autobots. As his friend, it is my duty to return the favor. I know if he was in my position and I in his, he would drop everything to help me.”

Zeta did slam his hands on the table this time around, turning everyone to him. “I refuse to allow you to go on this fool’s mission!”

Optimus locked eyes with the older Prime. His expression was unreadable as he spoke. “I do not care what you will and will not allow.”

Growling, the purple Prime responded. “Then I have no choice but to accompany you to be sure you do not make any further lapses in judgement. I am taking my elite guards, I recommend you do the same. Decepticons are in the surrounding waters, and traitors are even closer.”

“Jazz, will you come along?” Optimus turned to the small silver mer.

“Nah, not this time, buddy. But I know a certain fortimis who I’m sure would love to accompany you…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sentry is simply the live action version of Sentinel, but since there's two Sentinels in this, I had to give him a different name!


	7. Fool's Paradise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to the land boys! Did you miss 'em?

Chapter 7:

Fool’s Paradise

Gunmetal gray fingers pressed against glass, overlaying with smaller, pale ones on the other side. Drift couldn’t help but stare in wonder at giant mer before him. His face was scarred, yet he had this elegant feeling to him. Regal, even. Like a king. His whole frame was covered by defined muscles. Decorating his tail were sleek fins that seemed akin to that of a shark in placement, though they were closer to a whale’s in appearance. Almost all of those fins were torn or otherwise damaged. Drift couldn’t help but wonder if that impacted his swimming.

Black markings, or possibly tattoos, glided across the mers powerful chest. More markings decorated the rest of his gray body; thick red lines on his stomach, entire black portions on his arms… From the center of his chest laced crackling purple designs that flowed outwards and down his right arm. It reminded Drift of a surfer woman he’d once met. Her back was covered with scarring from a lightning strike. But, unlike her scars, these strange markings seemed to move, flowing almost. No. It had to be a trick of the water.

“Making friends, Drift?” He turned when he heard the voice of his friend. Ratchet seemed to always look so out of place when they were in public, but, for once, he actually blended in with the crowd pretty well. Good, they didn’t want attention.

He pulled his hand away from the glass. “No, not really. Simply… curious.” Voice lowering, he stepped closer to the doctor. “Be sure to take photos for Ironhide. And, don’t forget, they’re introducing the pup to his tank at 11:30. We have to be here to see him.”

“Yes, Drift, I remember. I made the plan, after all.” He fished his phone from his pocket, grumbling as he fumbled to open the camera. On the other side of the tank, the giant gray mer bumped his forehead against the glass, catching Ratchet’s attention. “What do you want?”

He doubted that he could hear him through the thick division, but he couldn’t bite back his words. “Are all of you covered in scars? Just how often do your kind get into scuffles?”

A heavy rumble caused an echoing rumble throughout the glass, grabbing the attention of several other attendees, and workers. Most of them exclaimed in wonder, making Ratchet grimace. So much for avoiding attention. Ratchet snapped a quick photo of the mer and stepped away to regroup with his roommate.

“He’s strange.” The doctor stated, watching from a distance as the gray form disappeared into a hideaway within the comedically sized tank. “But perhaps that’s a species trait.”

“He’d probably say the same of us. You really shouldn’t judge another group by the standards of your own, though.”

“This isn’t the time or the place for an argument on cultural relativism, Drift.”

Eying the other man curiously, the vagrant ceased that conversation to begin a new, hushed one. “I heard some of the workers remarking that they’d never seen him come out like that before. He seems to hide most days, only coming out to begrudgingly accept the food they offer.”

“Think about it, he’s stuck in this…prison. Sure, it’s huge, but it’s not the ocean. And these people don’t seem to realize that the mers aren’t mindless animals. They aren’t fish you can throw into tank, their minimum needs required, and expect them to be happy.”

“You seem quite upset over this.”

“Only because it’s monstrous. I hope we can find a way to free him, and the child.”

 

 

As the clock drew nearer to the designated time that the pup would be released into his new ‘home’, the crowd grew larger and larger. There were so many people herded around him, Ratchet could have sworn it was harder to breathe. A family pushed the two of them closer, the doctor cursing that he didn’t have a decent angle to take a photo now.

Drift grasped the older man’s phone. “I’ll get through and take a picture.”

“Fine, yes, just take my phone. We really do need to buy you your own…” But his words fell upon deaf ears as the lithe surfer wormed his way through the crowd. A lot of the clattering of voices ceased as some greasy looking man stepped before the crowd and he called out for attention.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, we are glad you all came today to Sandy Cape Aquarium to welcome our newest addition! He was found, abandoned, on an isolated side of the island’s coast, cold and hungry. While we are still learning about their species, we agreed to take in this poor pup to give him a chance at life!

“Since we are unsure of how our adult merfolk will respond to young that isn’t his own, we have installed a wall between the two sides to prevent them from interacting directly until we feel it would be safe. They can see each other, hear each other, and smell each other.”

Above the crowd, several workers stood on a temporary platform that overlooked the tanks. One of them gently lifted the youngling from a small holding pool that looked remarkably close to a kiddy pool and wrapped him in a towel. They handed him to another worker, who waited patiently as a third opened a hatch.

“We’ve yet to name this mer, so be sure to vote online! We have picked out several names such as-”

A sudden, powerful thud cut the man off, prompting him to turn around as people gasped in horror. The giant gunmetal gray mer slammed his entire weight against the center of the division once again, resulting in the same sound as moments before.

“Wha- stop him!”

But it was too late. Before any of the workers could launch into action, the division shattered. In the one worker’s arms, Bumble cried out. The one holding the hatch open tried to shut it before the mer was upon them, but he reached his arm out to stop the movement.

Several people in the crowd screamed. Children wailed. A vicious hiss of an unintelligible language slipped from the adult mer’s mouth, and his spare hand clutched at the towel wrapped around the merlet. He pulled the child from the worker’s arms, ushering more horrified responses.

He retreated then, and only then. With speed surprising for something his size, the gray mer swam towards his hideaway, gently holding the pup by the scruff of his neck. Everyone stood in a shocked silence. The giant mer let the pup free from his maw and turned to stare at the humans. He locked eyes with someone in the crowd and bared his fangs.

Bumble seemed disoriented by the sudden change of surroundings, and by the strange male by his side. However, his small hands clutched at gray ones. Soft, broken vocalizations rippled the water. Drift snapped a photo as the adult gently took hold of Bumble’s hand in his own. They turned into the artificial cave, disappearing from view.

His eyes turned away from the photo he had just taken, only to lock with green ones across the room. Their owner scowled as he made eye contact. Drift turned away. He didn’t like this. Pushing his way back through the chattering crowd, the surfer returned to his roommate. “Let’s go, Ratch, quickly.”

They began their way to the exit and the new man in front of the crowd began to speak. “Everyone, it is quite alright. I have studied these creatures in nature for years. I have observed their strong desire to protect their young, but as I had also seen some adults attack offspring not their own, I had advised the staff here to install the division. Apparently, this mer’s instinct to protect is strong.”

Ratchet held the door open for his friend, taking the moment to look at the man. He was clearly of African descent, and dressed rather nicely in a black suit. His hair, dark as night, was pulled back into a short, curly ponytail that, when he turned his head, the doctor could see had been previously dyed green in sporadic highlights. Rings of all colors decorated his hands and a golden ring pierced the center of his nose. Well, he’d never seen a marine biologist with such accessories, and there were a good number on the island. In fact…

Ratchet didn’t recognize him at all.

“Come on,” Drift grasped his hand and pulled him through the exit, leading him determinedly towards the entrance to the building. “We shouldn’t linger, just in case.”

“Why are you acting so strange all of a sudden? Well, more than your usual at least?”

“I know who that man is. We…have had several run-ins with one another in the past. He isn’t a nice fellow. We called him Lockdown.” The younger man said nothing after that. Ratchet knew enough about Drift to not press into the subject. He was aware that his friend didn’t care to talk about his past often. And, from the bits he’d been told before on drunken nights, he could understand why.

“So…I take it he’s really not a marine biologist then?” Said the doctor as they crossed the street.

“Unless he turned over a new leaf and stopped being a black-market vendor, no. I’d bet you he caught the mers and sold them off.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Worse.”

 

 

Lockdown sighed heavily as he pulled the tie from his hair, letting it loose as it could be in its natural state. He’d abandoned his suit a while ago, instead opting to wear something much more comfortable and his style. Securing a belt into the loops of his ripped jeans, the man turned around to face several others gathered behind him.

He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging strands of tight curls straight only for them to snap right back into their natural shape when he let go. One of the others handed over a heavy leather jacket that he accepted from her hands.

“I know that was Deadlock at the aquarium.” He shrugged the jacket over his shoulders, but didn’t bother to zipper it shut, leaving his front bare. If anyone asked why he was shirtless exactly, he would claim to be the heat of the summer. If anyone then went on to inquire why he didn’t just wear a shirt instead of the leather, he would probably introduce them to his weapons. “He’d been taking photos of the merfolk. How much do you all want to bet that he’s working with someone? If anyone traces this back to me, this could be the end.”

Upon receiving no responses, he scowled and stalked closer. “I asked, _how much do you all want to bet_? Your lives, I would take it?”

His words resulted in a stuttering chorus of “Sir!”

“We need to do something about this. He was with someone, a doctor from the hospital in the city-”

“How do you know, sir?” Someone dared to ask. Lockdown smirked, turned on his heel, and paced back and forth in front of them all, hands folded behind his back.

“Simple. I’ve made a _friend_ of one of the doctors there. Fiery little thing, named Kyushichi Oe. He’s quite the character. I’ve seen everyone in employment at that hospital, though they likely never saw me. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind giving me the name and address of our fellow acquaintance, if the good doctor isn’t in himself. I promised to help him, after all. I need something in return.”

 

 

Saying the hospital was inactive would be an understatement. Nothing of great importance had happened. Some over dramatic first-time parents, a few broken bones, a couple dehydrated tourists… But it kept only a portion of the staff active. 

Lockdown walked right in, skirting past prying eyes as he stalked closer to where he knew he would find Doctor Oe. The doctor, while avid in helping others, was quite questionable when it came to work ethic. He tended to laze about when he wasn’t needed, doing paperwork if he felt like it. He found the smaller man in the break room, lounging in a seat. His laptop was propped up ahead of him as he typed away, though Lockdown doubted he was doing any actual work.

“Knock, knock, Doc.”

He startled the man from his seat, eliciting a soft hiss from him in shock. “What are you doing here? How did you even?”

“The door was open, Kyushichi. Or should I call you Knockout? That is your nickname, correct?” Lockdown left the doorway, crossing the room with long steps and took a seat across from where the other had been sitting. He motioned for the doctor to retake his chair.

“Ah, yes. A rather creative nickname on the account I administer the anesthesia. I wish I could have received it, instead, for my drop dead looks.”

“In your line of work, I don’t think you should be using that expression.”

Knockout waved a hand dismissively and lifted his cup to his lips as he sat back down. He saved whatever he had been working on and shut his laptop, sliding it aside. “Regardless, what are you visiting me for? Did another associate of your get hurt?”

“Actually, I’m more interested in one of your associates today.”

“Oh? Color me interested.”

“That old man, with the graying red hair. Who is he?”

Scoffing, the doctor sat his drink back upon its coaster. “Never took you as someone to have an interest in older men, LD. That’s Reginald Rodriguez, though I think that strange roommate of his calls him Ratchet or something else along those lines.”

Lockdown folded his hands upon the surface of the table, eying the other curiously. “Strange roommate, you say? What can you tell me about him?”

“Eh, not much. Weird Japanese man as far as I can tell. He shows up every summer, stays with Reggie the whole time, and teaches tourists how to surf. Blows outta town every autumn, though I don’t have the slightest clue where he goes. Reggie calls him Drift, I think. Weird guy, all around.”

“Where do they stay?”

It was Knockout’s turn to eye the other curiously now. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Let me guess, this is my payment for our deal isn’t it?”

“Correct. You’re smarter than you look.”

“Hey! I’m not just good looks, I have the brains to go along with them. Anyways, they live down on the coast in this old house. I think it used to be a fisherman’s hut a long time ago. Way too small for my tastes. Honestly, I find it pretty amazing it hasn’t washed off the shore yet.” He stood up from his seat and walked over to the counter. Pulling down a pad of paper that had been Velcroed to the cabinet and fishing a pen from his pocket, he quickly wrote down a sloppy address.

Lockdown accepted it with a small nod. “Thank you, doctor. You’re a lifesaver.”


End file.
